


heaven help the fool who falls in love

by windowbedsthebest



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windowbedsthebest/pseuds/windowbedsthebest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tobin's subtle. Alex doesn't catch on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heaven help the fool who falls in love

**Author's Note:**

> based off of r. mckinley's "8 ways to say i love you." written impulsively in the span of two hours so hopefully it doesn't suck.

_i._

Tobin's chest is light and bubbly as she presses her back into the ledge of the bar and tips her head back in laughter, her fingers wrapping around the nook of Kelley's elbow in attempt to steady her balance in the heels she borrowed from Cheney.

Kelley continues to recall the anecdote naturally rolling itself off her tongue, and Tobin listens intently, bringing the rim of her beer bottle to meet her lips and treating herself to a hearty swig.

Music thumps against her ear drums with each second that passes, and she dips her head down when Christen nudges her way to the bar and murmurs something in her ear. "Alex went back. She has an early flight tomorrow."

Tobin nods in acknowledgement and downs the rest of her drink before dropping it back onto the counter behind her with a _thud_ , ordering herself a shot of vodka as if it'll keep her heart from sinking.

She and Alex are supposed to be celebrating the Victory Tour together, but considering the latter is already on her way back to the hotel, it's not going quite as planned.

The bartender grabs her attention and she effortlessly lets the bitter taste burn her throat to the point her entire face scrunches up in displeasure.

She slides her phone out of her back pocket and checks for any new text messages, clicking it off when she just finds herself staring at her wallpaper; a picture she and Alex took together in the locker room right after the game in Birmingham.

The game in which Alex scored a goal for her, because she couldn't do it herself.

"Tobs, let's dance," Kelley tugs on her wrists and drags her to the dance floor, and Tobin's phone is forgotten when Hands to Myself amplifies through the walls.

She excuses herself after what feels like an hour and steps outside the club to bask in fresh air, leaning against the wall of bricks and numbly scrolling through the contacts on her phone, her thumb halting when she finds the name she's looking for. _Alex Morgan._

Her mind buzzing, she holds the device to her ear and taps her heel into the pavement as it rings, slumping her shoulders when she's greeted with Alex's voicemail. "Hey. It's me. Um, yeah. I don't really know why I called. I guess I just wanted to tell you that I wish you were here." She silences herself as a group of friends tumble out of the building and saunter past her. "So, that's that." She swallows a lump in her throat before uttering the words, "I love you." She hangs up the phone and storms back inside before she can let it sink in.

                          ---

The next morning, Tobin hides her face deep into her pillow, blindly reaching for her phone on the bedside table and checking for any calls or texts from Alex. Her heartstrings tighten when she only finds 2 texts from Cheney and 1 from Kelley, figuring if Alex listened to her voicemail, she's probably waiting to see her in person to say something about it.

When they meet in the lobby to grab a quick breakfast before heading to the airport, Alex never brings it up.

 _ii_.

Christmas didn't feel like Christmas without Alex. Maybe that's why Tobin finds herself in Diamond Bar the morning of the 26th, pinned underneath Alex's body and smirking against her lips as they rock against each other, a dangerous three doors down from her parents down the hall.

"A little slower," she whispers into Alex's hair as the younger girl inches her shirt further and further up her torso. "That's it."

Their mouths bump together when they rejoin their lips because they're both grinning so hard, and the words tumble out of Tobin's mouth in the form of an almost inaudible sigh.

"I love you."

She knows Alex doesn't hear it; she barely hears it herself. But the words linger teasingly above their heads, holding the weight of Tobin's world with them.

When they fall into an exhausted slumber not long after, the weight becomes too heavy for her to handle, and Alex doesn't stir as she tiptoes into the bathroom and hunches over the sink.

She wordlessly slides back into bed before her absence goes noticed.

 _iii_.

The third time she says it, she doesn't say it through physical, tangible words.

The team is in Dallas preparing for Olympic Qualifiers, and Tobin drags herself out of bed to walk over to the Walgreens two blocks west of the hotel, her rubber flip flops clicking against the floor as she scans the aisles for a box of chocolates and flowers.

An efficient five minutes later, she juggles the purchases in her hand and uses her elbow to punch in the floor in the elevator.

She probably should've taken up the cashier on his offer when he asked if she needed a bag.

She balances the chocolate in between her chin and her chest as she pulls the spare key to Alex and Becky's room out of the waistband of her shorts, sliding it into the slot and inviting herself inside.

Luckily for her, she ran into Becky on her way up and was reassured she'd be on a run for the next half hour, so she drops the contents onto the foot of the bed and kneels down at the edge.

She nuzzles her face against Alex's cheek and presses a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, beaming when Alex scrunches it slightly and starts to stir. "Hey, sleepy."

"Mmm," Alex's eyes flutter open tiredly, and she shoots Tobin the most tender of smiles. "Happy Valentine's Day, babe." She tugs on one of Tobin's wrists and plants a kiss on the back of her hand. "I have morning breath."

"That's ok," Tobin latches their lips together. "Thanks for making me happy." She latches their lips together again. "And for being my home." Again.

Alex reaches out to cradle Tobin's cheek in one of her hands. "You're my world. Forever."

They finish all the chocolates together by noon, and Tobin sports the new snapback Alex bought her, tucking it safe in her room before the two of them drive over to some fancy restaurant 15 minutes away.

Neither of them know how to pronounce its name. And when they get there, they discover they don't know how to pronounce anything on the menu.

Tobin feels out of her element. But she has Alex in front of her to tether her to sanity, and that's all that matters.

 _iv_.

The clock reads _1:58 a.m_., Alex is sound asleep, and Tobin's wide awake, her face hidden in Alex's hair, which smells like her shampoo.

Tobin counts the beats between each of Alex's breaths, a source of confirmation that the younger girl is sleeping, and her heartrate starts picking up when the words itch in her throat.

"I love you, Al." It comes out louder than she expects, and when Alex starts to stir awake, she quickly shuts her eyes and plays the part of a sleeping girl.

"Tobin?" Alex croaks out wearily, and Tobin presses her nose even further into Alex's hair.

When Alex presses a kiss to her forehead and easily falls back into a slumber, Tobin finds herself more awake than she was a minute ago.

_v._

Tobin isn't whipped, per se.

If she doesn't want to dance, then she won't dance. There's not even any music to dance to.

But when Alex juts out her bottom lip and softens her eyes, Tobin decides that a quick slow dance with her favorite person in the entire world can't be that bad.

Her arms wind around Alex's neck, and Alex's fingers naturally find the curve of Tobin's waist. "Follow my steps." And Tobin does, cheekily grinning when she accidentally steps on Alex's toes. "You're fine, you're fine."

"I love you." The three words again. But before Alex can react to it, Tobin adds hastily, "You know, when-when you're like this." She starts to stammer. "You're-you're not the Alex Morgan. The face of women's soccer." A short pause. "You're just...my Alex."

Alex smiles warmly against Tobin's temple. "Being your Alex is my favorite job in the world."

 _vi_.

Tobin's never been the best with words. So she writes a letter.

_Alex,_

_I don't really know why I'm writing this. Like actually handwriting this. It'd be a lot easier to send you a text like a normal person. But I'm trying to be better at this romance thing, and this letter can probably help me out._

_I'd give you the world if I could. But that's pretty much impossible. So instead I'll work on giving you every ounce of love I can possibly muster up. You don't deserve anything less._

_Thank you for everything, Al. Thank you for you._

_I love you. I love you I love you I love you. It scares me you might not know that._

_Tobin_

She stares down at the paper until the letters burn through her eyes, huffing in frustration as she crumples it up and tosses it in the trashcan of her and Alex's shared bathroom.

The next morning, it's not there anymore. Tobin doesn't think anything of it until she realizes garbage day isn't for another three days.

Alex doesn't say anything about it.

 _vii_.

"It gets chilly at night." That's all Tobin says when she hands Alex her favorite UNC sweatshirt to take with her to Orlando.

It's so worn out with use that it's a shade lighter than it was when Tobin first bought it, and both sleeves frail at the hems. But she needed Alex to have it. On the other side of the country.

Alex clutches onto the sweatshirt, and Tobin peers down at her feet. Tears threaten to prick at her eyes, so she clears her throat to distract herself.

"You're still my home." Alex's voice is soft, and Tobin lets herself breaks as she flings her arm around Alex's neck, molding her face into its crevice.

"You've always been mine," her voice cracks lamely, and when she pulls away, she wipes at her tears with the inside of her elbow. "Time differences don't mean anything. Whenever you want to call, I'll be on the other end of the line."

Alex shoots her a tight-lipped smile, the same tight-lipped smile that's reserved for times she's fighting back tears of her own. "I'll see you on the pitch."

Tobin breathes out a laugh. "You'll look good in purple," she mumbles, and Alex chastely kisses her cheek.

This time, the words don't come until she's watching Alex make her way through the automatic doors of the airport.

"I love you."

 _viii_.

They're both in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing their teeth before bed when Tobin can't take it anymore.

"I love you."

Alex doesn't understand her because her toothbrush is in her mouth, so Tobin sets it down and says it again. More confidently.

"I love you."

Toothpaste dribbles down the side of her mouth, and Alex's heart swells so tightly she abruptly wipes her mouth with a face towel before giving Tobin a kiss, giggling as toothpaste engulfs her lips. "I love you, too, dummy."

 

 


End file.
